


Life Doesn't Stop

by HillbillyOfDoom



Category: In the Heat of the Night
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-01
Updated: 2009-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillbillyOfDoom/pseuds/HillbillyOfDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A journalist approaches the Sparta P.D. wanting to open old wounds. She gets a sad lesson in life.</p><p>A revised version of what was originally posted at FF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Doesn't Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These characters are borrowed. I am not profiting from them.

Virginia knew by the glare she received that it would be in her best interest to not ask the chief a question. She did anyway and had the office door closed in her face in an eerily slow fashion.

Bill Gillespie had answered Virginia’s question without saying a word.  Summed up how he felt about what had happened and her heart went out to him for it. She could only attempt to empathize, knowing she could never truly understand what the old man was feeling.

Virgil Tibbs explained from where he stood at her side, “He’ll never talk about it, at least, not the way you want him to.”

The brunette glanced to Virgil and gave an understanding nod. She’d only interviewed the detective so far.  He’d been open and honest with her, but she knew better than to expect that from all the others. Some, like Bill, would never talk openly and for others, a year just wasn’t enough time.

Virgil went on, “Talking leads to closure. Closure leads to healing... that leads to forgetting....”

“And he doesn’t want that,” Virginia interjected, sparing Virgil the struggle to come to the point.

It wasn’t just Bill that didn’t want to forget. Virgil didn’t want to forget either. Sometimes, when his kids laughed like babies do and they made him so happy he could burst, he’d remember. He’d be reminded that everyday he was guilty of the sin of living his life.

XXXXXXXX

Luann Corbin wasn’t comfortable. She knew the reporter was trying to get a feel for her victim. _Subject_ , Luann corrected sarcastically to herself before answering the question that had just been posed to her. “Faith is a comfort to a lot of people... in a lot of different professions....”

“Certainly,” Virginia agreed, still studying the books in Luann’s bookcase.  "But would you risk your life as eagerly if you weren’t somewhat certain there was something _after_.”

Luann snapped, “Something coming after or not, I don’t risk my life _eagerly_. Any cop that says they do needs to see a shrink... _immediately_.”

Virginia turned and faced the black woman. Luann’s defensiveness was just a reluctance to do the interview. Virginia was certain of that and didn’t take all the smaller woman’s criticisms and barbs personally. She offered a genuine smile. “You’re right. I should have chosen my words more carefully.”

Luann shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt at being too harsh with a woman who had really done nothing wrong so far except make a few poor choices in words. Instead of apologizing, Luann merely moved on, offering the reporter a freebie. “When things get rough, I _am_ glad the good Lord’s on my side.” She stressed, “It _does_ help.”

“So, you feel his presence?”

The officer hesitated, worried about how she’d be portrayed in the article Virginia would eventually write. She gave up trying to calculate where every avenue would lead and merely replied honestly, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And when bad things happen?  Where is God?”

“The old _Why do bad things happen to good people_ question,” Luann sighed. Why _do_ bad things happen to good people? That was the whole reason Virginia was there, of course.

XXXXXXXX

Lonnie Jamison studied the reporter coolly, not convinced that her motives were honorable. His distrust was evident in every response, though he always held himself to a strict level of politeness.

“So, who do you blame?” she asked, finding that bluntness had been the best tactic with him so far.

“The gunmen,” Lonnie replied without hesitation.

“No one else?” She asked skeptically, fairly certain there was more blame to go around.

Knowing where her line of questioning was going, Lonnie asked, “Are you psychic?”

“No, can’t say that I am,” she admitted, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

“Then why would you expect anyone else to be?”

XXXXXXXX

Having just concluded her interview with Lonnie Jamison, it was hard for Virginia not to compare the two men. They could have been brothers. Half brothers, at least.  Willson Sweet was more open with his emotions, but like Lonnie, seemed wise beyond his years and keenly observant. No matter how animated Sweet became, she was certain he was as aware of her as she was of him.

“It was my turn to watch the kid,” Sweet admitted, his words dripping with self-scorn.

“Why weren’t you?”

“Personal business. Something came up and I ended my shift early.” Though his reply was vague, he could remember exactly what had pulled him away that day. Just a mundane private matter that would now haunt him until his soul drifted away from his death bed. If he’d done that same task any other day, he would have never been able to recall its details. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been any other day. It had been _that_ day and he’d never be able to forget. Ever.

XXXXXXXX

“Why?” Virginia asked gently.

The beautiful blonde met Virginia's gaze for only an instant then looked away. “The drunk tank was full. He was on foot. He wasn’t a real danger to anyone, except himself. A citation for public intox was enough.”

“You’ve just admitted it was enough... yet you still insist it wasn’t.”

“One part of me knows that there was no way I could possibly know what he’d go on to do.”

Virginia continued to push, “But another part still insists that you take a share of the blame.”

Dee Shepard turned and looked the reporter square in the eye and declared, “If I had done one thing differently it wouldn’t have happened. We wouldn’t be here. This conversation would not be taking place.”

Virginia leaned forward in her chair. “How can you be certain? Truly certain that some things aren’t... _destined to be_? He could have... _escaped_. He could have been bailed out. He could have dried out, gone home and still decided to do what he did. Not to mention there were _two_ of them.”

“Guilt and logic seldom keep company,” Dee admitted in defeat, having gone over every scenario Virginia had offered. She’d gone over them time and time again.

XXXXXXXX

JoAnn St. John approached from the other side of the counter and offered a friendly smile as she inquired, “How’s it going?”

“Not well,” Virginia sighed.

JoAnn freshened the reporter’s cup of coffee. It was all Virginia had ordered so far.  The younger woman had spent the good part of half an hour staring down thoughtfully into the jet black liquid.

Virginia added, “I don’t want to just rehash old news. I want to... add something to the story. Something... _relevant_.” She wiped her weary face with both hands slowly, then added, “But I don’t want to go there.”

JoAnn put the pot of coffee back on the burner to stay warm before turning back to the reporter and correcting, “You do want to go there. That’s why you came _here_.”

The reporter clasped her hands tightly in front of her face and leaned her chin into them thoughtfully. “Would you even be willing to talk to me?”

“I would _love_ to talk to you,” JoAnn replied in a cheerful tone unique to her and no one else.

Virginia perked up, startled.

JoAnn explained, “Because it’s _relevant_.”

XXXXXXXX

_Bubba leaned on the counter to better keep the conversation just between the two of them. “We talked to the boy’s daddy. There won’t be any more fire crackers.”_

_JoAnn wiped down the counter with an absent-mindedness that had come with completing the task a hundred times a day. “I’m glad to hear that.” She glanced down the counter and glanced back to Bubba with a new smile. “Did he take care of it or did you?”_

_Bubba copied her actions and even ended with a similar smile. No sooner than Bubba had told JoAnn how the rookie had single-handedly dealt with the devious vandal, the subject of their conversation reminded them both of his presence by calling Bubba’s name anxiously._

_Bubba gave the rookie a half interested sideways glance and quickly did a double take. As he did so, JoAnn cautiously grasped his hand before he could attempt to do anything out of reflex. He realized why as he found himself in the same position as his younger counterpart. He turned slightly and was staring down the barrel of a large caliber handgun._

_Unlike the rookie, Bubba managed a steadier tone, “I get the impression you boys aren’t here for the special.”_

“ _You’re right,” came the reply from the other end of the Smith & Wesson Bubba was currently getting too acquainted with._

“ _Ya do realize it’s usually betta’ to rob a place before the cops show up... right?”_

“ _We were already committed,” the gunman explained, expressing a bizarre sense of pride. No doubt bravado to cover the truth, that he’d bitten off more than he could chew and was now stalling until he could decide how to proceed._

_In no position to resist, surrounded by a lot of potential victims and dealing with a gunman who was obviously scared, confused and a little wasted, Bubba stood down. “I think JoAnn’ll do as ya ask.” He glanced cautiously back to her and offered a reassuring nod that it was best to just do as they demanded._

_She spoke to Bubba, not the gunmen. “I hope they’ll show a little gratitude and not hurt anyone.”_

_Acknowledging her attempt to remind them of at least basic decency, Bubba smiled weakly at her for her effort. He only hoped they weren’t too fried for it to sink in._

_As the first gunman taunted the rookie by jabbing him with the business end of his Ruger, the boy suddenly found his voice again. Bubba was relieved when all that came out of the youth’s mouth was a strained, “Just take it easy. You don’t want to hurt anybody.”_

“ _Maybe I do,” came the snide reply._

_Bubba’s sense of unease flared.  Since the onset of their current predicament, a feeling of dread had been burning in the officer's gut.  The newcomer to the dire event had just tossed a fresh log on the fire, sending hot embers hissing and popping out of the pit._

_Until now, Bubba didn’t know the state of the other gunman. Now he did and it wasn’t good. He risked reminding no one in particular, “He’s just a kid.”_

_The rookie’s antagonist liked the sound of that, jeering at his captive, “Just a kid huh.”_

_JoAnn sensed things escalating just as Bubba did. She met the robbers' demands as quickly as she could in hopes of sending them off on their way. In the back of her mind, she feared nothing would ever actually please them._

_The same possibility had crossed Bubba’s mind as well. When they had what they came for, there was no reason to be sensible anymore. They could do as they pleased. He prepared himself for that possibility as best he could._

_Meanwhile, an older patron saw fit to scold, “You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”_

XXXXXXXX

Virginia stared unseeing at the screen of her laptop. Eventually she came back from where her imagination had taken her. Four measly paragraphs ridiculed her from an otherwise blank page. A very long and daunting page. It was far easier to report the news than to try to make sense of it, like she was attempting now.

Lonnie had admitted a lot of mistakes had been made. Both officers could have been paying more attention. Should they have been? Was it their responsibility to be watchful every second of every minute of every hour?

“ _Do you blame yourself?” she asked._

_The reply came without a breath of hesitation. “Yeah.”_

“ _Why?”_

“ _I could have done things differently.”_

“E _veryone could have reacted differently,” she argued. Catching herself giving a lot of opinion, but asking few questions, she apologized to the officer, “I’ve let this story get to me....”_

“ _You’re trying to put yourself in his place. Well, don’t. I was there. I_ can _put myself in his place and it doesn’t help... you’ll just drive yourself crazy.”_

She couldn’t take that offered advice. She had to know. Without that knowledge, her article would just be another lack luster anniversary piece.

She tried to imagine taking in a breath with the intent to live, taking in the next with the intent to sacrifice oneself and then... well, nothing. The nothing made her pull her hands away from her keyboard and rub the sudden chill out of them. Considering the unknown void of what came at the end always left her unsettled, feeling insignificant and fragile.

Like many of her readers, she didn’t even want to consider death, let alone have to make a conscience decision to face it. Would she? Could she? She couldn’t imagine that she could.

XXXXXXXX

_The old World War II vet inadvertently set off a chain reaction. The more agitated of the two gunmen directed his attention from the rookie to the vet, forcing the rookie to move on the opportunity. He’d never know it, but Bubba had seen the kid’s opening and hoped he’d take it. When he did, the older officer followed his lead._

Virginia didn’t feel right turning the tape recorder’s volume higher. Instead she crossed her arms and laid her head on her desk atop them and listened, her ear closer to the small speaker, entranced by the way JoAnn told the story. No one could have done it with so much flare, yet conveyed such a solemn respect.

JoAnn explained that the first bullet had just made Bubba angry. It took a second to put him down. One gunman was dead and the other was weeping and howling like he soon would be, though that wouldn’t be the case.  Doctors managed to put him back together just to send him off to prison for the rest of his life at state tax payers' expense.

Virginia listened on and found that JoAnn’s recount of her diligent attempt to prevent Bubba Skinner from bleeding to death on the floor of her cafe refreshed the point that the woman would make at the end of her interview. Life didn’t always give one time to do things the way one would like to.

“They all blame themselves for not giving the boy the attention he deserved, but there was no way they could have. I can attest to that,” JoAnn explained. “When I realized he was dead and Bubba wasn’t, the choice was clear where my attention belonged... where their attention belonged.”

JoAnn had highlighted her point by topping off the nearest sugar dispenser. Things needed to be done. Life was so short, yet so many tiny things needed done. Boring, tedious things. If tiny things needed done, how was one supposed to ignore their bigger responsibilities.

“Everyone thinks death is the end. Nothing stops life, not even death. Everyone keeps going. We have to... and we feel guilty for it.”


End file.
